


riptide (you'll sing the words wrong)

by kay_emm_gee



Series: fathoms below [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, F/M, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5341568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waves lapped, seagulls cried, and a lonely wind whistled over the sunset-soaked water.</p><p>Then Clarke heard the creaking of the ship, and her heart stopped.</p><p>Not again. Not so soon.</p><p>She looked at the others, at Maya’s sad eyes, Raven’s pinched brow, and Harper’s pained frown. Her own hands tightened against the slippery stone of their rocky perch, seaweed squelching under her palms. Barnacles threatened to tear at her flesh, though a few cuts didn’t matter. They would heal soon enough.</p><p>Sirens were immortal, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	riptide (you'll sing the words wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I listened to The Little Mermaid Broadway soundtrack and then this happened.

Waves lapped, seagulls cried, and a lonely wind whistled over the sunset-soaked water.

Then Clarke heard the creaking of the ship, and her heart stopped.

_Not again. Not so soon._

She looked at the others, at Maya’s sad eyes, Raven’s pinched brow, and Harper’s pained frown. Her own hands tightened against the slippery stone of their rocky perch, seaweed squelching under her palms. Barnacles threatened to tear at her flesh, though a few cuts didn’t matter. They would heal soon enough.

Sirens were immortal, after all.

“It’s close,” Harper whispered, voice lilting and quiet, so soft it would steal you away like a lullaby, to a sleep you would never wake up from.

Raven tossed her salt-soaked hair over her shoulder, grimacing. “Then it’s time.”

Her tone brooked no argument, as full and loud as cathedral bells, a ringing roll of richness that confounded men into walking right off the decks of their ships, glory and heaven in their eyes even as they plunged into the hellish depths of the sea.

This was their fifth ship in as many days, and the toll was beginning to wear on them. Clarke glanced at Maya, who looked as upset as she herself felt.

“Can’t we just–skip one?” Maya asked with a timbre layered and complex, a question within a question, a sound you got lost in, buried in, drowned in, because the only end you would find with her was a watery grave.

She was answered by another wooden creak of the approaching ship, louder this time, and a dangerous thrum under their scaly skin. Sadness filled Clarke as she breathed in the briny air, the sting of it bringing tears to her eyes.

“No,” she said, her rasp sharp and sweet, giving and taking, just as much a double-edged sword as the water surrounding them, a sound that quenched a thirst while worsening it at the same time. “No, we can’t.”

The four of them didn’t look at each other after that, just at the flash of white sails now visible on the horizon. Another day, another ship, another round of lives they would have to take. This was the price they paid, though, for revenge, for the chance to punish the weak, to gain some small sense of justice when they couldn’t take it against their own betrayers. Broken-hearted girls they had all once been, and now heartless creatures they all were, with no way out.

So Clarke inhaled, and a blast of wind hit her in the face. Her blonde hair–riddled with sand and salt and bits of shells–swirled in the building gusts as she continued to breathe in and out, conjuring up the beginnings of a storm. With closed eyes, Maya called the clouds, growing them, expanding them, until they blotted out the last of the blood-orange light of the setting sun. With a flick of her wrist, Raven sent flashes of lightning through the blackening billows overhead, only seconds before Harper splayed her hand over the ocean surface, adding moisture to the mix up above.

The first pinging drop of rain to fall was their cue, tuning them in to the pitch of the storm. Harper started first, licking her lips before her feather-light melody began to pour out. The rain picked up as she sang, falling, falling, falling, until they were all drenched, dripping, saturated with the damning cascade. Then Raven joined in, bringing electrical strikes down to the water. Next, as always, was Maya, and the thunder rolled, ominously, promisingly.

In between the crashes and flashes of the storm, Clarke hesitated. She should part her lips, let her deadly song sing out, but as the sailors’ cries began to echo across the wide expanse, she found herself doubting. Maya fumbled, Harper faltered, and Raven just grew louder, defiantly, as if trying to carry the weight of their duty all on her own. Her brown eyes flashed darkly, regretfully over at Clarke, who swallowed tightly before giving in to the grating pain at her throat and sang.

The wind howled. The boat turned. It was heading right for them, and right for the rocky terrain hidden beneath the wild waves.

It happened in a blur like it always did. The ship careening, listing, struggling to stay afloat as the storm raged around it. The crunching grind as the hull struck the submerged boulders. The frantic shouts of the sailors, followed quickly by splashes as their bodies hit the water.

Their four siren voices rose then, calling to those still clinging to the ship away from life and towards them. As more splashes sounded, Raven nodded at Harper, and both of them pushed off, diving below to finish their task, to make sure no one resurfaced. Maya followed soon after, her face blanching with reluctance as she sunk below the thrashing waves. Clarke, however, continued to sing, feeling one remaining flicker of resistance aboard the sinking vessel.

He was fighting hard, and her throat was growing sore, but finally, as she let her melody swell to a climax, she sensed his grip finally slip. As he hit the water, she plunged in herself, blood pounding through her veins as she raced to meet him underneath. The currents brought her to him, a writhing mass of brown shades, struggling to reach air again. She paused for a moment, waiting to see if he would give in to the forces forcing him back. It was always easier–on her arms and her heart–when they gave up. Some of them even came easily with her that way, their eyes widening at the sight of her, one last pretty mercy before they met their end.

This one, though, just kept fighting. Annoyance surged through Clarke, because he was going to make this difficult, for the both of them. Left with no choice, she began to sing again, and slowly, slowly, his thrashing lessened and bubbles began to seep from between his lips. She swam closer, darting here, twisting there, keeping just out of his sight. If he looked for her long enough, he would forget that he was running out of time.

She wasn’t expecting him to be so fast though, so determined. It caught her off guard when he whipped around, blinking brown eyes catching hers, freezing her in place. Then he lifted a hand, reaching out, as if  _he_  were helping  _her_ , and suddenly Clarke felt like she was the one being caught in an undertow. Her hand latched onto his, and they pulled into one another, swirling around in the raging tides.

The warmth of his palm startled her, frightened her, because it was too warm. He was too alive, and it was her fault. Before she could stop herself, she lunged forward, grasping the sides of his face tightly, cruelly. Her fingers dug into his skin as she captured his lips and stole the last of his air. It seeped out of him in hot bursts, too quickly for him to fight much.

As he struggled in vain against her deathly grip, images flashed across the back of her eyelids: a coastal village, a vine-covered house, a smiling brown-haired girl. Family, a sister, she sensed. She waited for the usual callous satisfaction of having caused this man to stray from the one he loved most to fill her, but all that welled up was regret. Panicking, she pulled away, staring at his closed eyes, his motionless limbs, realizing that this one was different. His last thought was not  _of_  the woman he loved, but  _for_  the woman he loved. He had wanted her safe, no matter what happened to him, and the selflessness carved out a hole inside Clarke, leaving her empty and hollow.

Her hands jerked away from his face in horror. He started to sink, to drift to the bottom where so many other souls had been lost, and before she could think, could consider what this might mean for her, she grabbed his arm and swam up, and up, and up. Breaking the surface with a gasp, she looked frantically through the pounding rain for something, anything to hold him up. When nothing substantial appeared, she had no choice but to move forward. Each wave that broke over her face seemed determined to hold her back, to reclaim what it considered belonged to it. Her, and him. It was greedy like that.

Clarke was stubborn though, and she fought the sea, fought against the darkness inside her, the sucking emptiness that begged her to just let him go. She could barely see, eyes smarting from the water and the wind, by the time she surged forward onto a sandy shore. Coughing up brine, she collapsed weakly next to her unconscious companion.

 _Rest_ , she thought in a daze as black spots filled her vision.  _I’ll rest just for a minute._

* * *

She woke to the gentle sound of waves breaking. A seagull cried softly overhead, and she sighed, pushing herself up to sit. Her hands stilled when she felt sand beneath her palms, not rock.

Her eyes popped open, and she let out a strangled cry, staring down at legs. 

Her legs.

Holding her breath, she dared to try and wiggle a toe, and tears pricked her eyes when her feet moved just like they should.

She had  _feet_.

Cautiously, she rested her palms against her thighs, running her hands slowly down her skin.

Skin, not scales.

Immediately she clenched her fingers, digging them into her muscles. She let out a watery laugh at the painful sensation, because pain went hand in hand with reality.

A soft stirring to her side startled her. When she looked down, she saw him, the man she had rescued. The sunlight shone golden on his freckled face, and she itched to brush the tangled curls away from his eyes.

Eyes that were blinking open.

Clarke froze, wondering if he would recognize her and hate her or fear her or thank her. It took him a while to focus on her, and he tensed when he did. She curled in on herself, tucking her newly reclaimed legs up, wrapping her arms around them, and burrowing her face into her knees. Still, she couldn’t help peeking under arm to glance at him again.

He was staring at her, eyes widening as he no doubt began to remember.

“You had–you were–different,” he rasped out, voice rough from strain and salt. “Why?”

He could mean so many things, none of which she had an answer for. So Clarke considered him for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall, so incredibly thankful for that small movement. Then, slowly, she raised her head, resting her chin on her forearm.

“You saved me,” she whispered finally. “That’s why.”

He opened his mouth, but coughed-up ocean water came out instead of words. Immediately she reached out to help turn him over, and warmth bloomed in her chest when he didn’t push her away.

“I saved you?” He asked when he caught his breath again, managing to sound surprised and amused all at the same time.

Clarke just reached out, placed her hand on top of his, and squeezed.

“Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “You did.”

With a half-smile, he closed his eyes but didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he laced their fingers together, and with a sigh, Clarke settled down on the damp sand next to him, breathing in the crisp, tangy air. There was a thrum under her skin again, and out of habit, she began to hum. This time, though, the sun stayed out, and the winds quieted at her melody.

She sang, he breathed, and they lay there together as the tide rolled in around them.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if I actually like this or not? Let me know what you think.


End file.
